The Absentee by Maria Edgeworth

others unhappy, they just looked round with an air of apathy.
'Ah! you've had Soho!—Soho has done wonders for you here! Vastly
well!—Vastly well!—Soho's very clever in his way!'
    Others of great importance came in, full of some slight accident that
had happened to themselves, or their horses, or their carriages; and,
with privileged selfishness, engrossed the attention of all within their
sphere of conversation. Well, Lady Clonbrony got over all this, and got
over the history of a letter about a chimney that was on fire, a week
ago, at the Duke of V's old house, in Brecknockshire. In gratitude
for the smiling patience with which she listened to him, his Grace of
V—fixed his glass to look at the Alhambra, and had just pronounced
it to be 'Well!—very well!' when the Dowager Lady Chatterton made
a terrible discovery—a discovery that filled Lady Clonbrony with
astonishment and indignation—Mr. Soho had played her false! What was
her mortification when the dowager assured her that these identical
Alhambra hangings had not only been shown by Mr. Soho to the Duchess
of Torcaster, but that her grace had had the refusal of them, and had
actually rejected them, in consequence of Sir Horace Grant the great
traveller's objecting to some of the proportions of the pillars.
Soho had engaged to make a new set, vastly improved, by Sir Horace's
suggestions, for her Grace of Torcaster.
    Now Lady Chatterton was the greatest talker extant; and she went shout
the rooms telling everybody of her acquaintance—and she was acquainted
with everybody—how shamefully Soho had imposed upon poor Lady
Clonbrony, protesting she could not forgive the man. 'For,' said
she,'though the Duchess of Torcaster has been his constant customer for
ages, and his patroness, and all that, yet this does not excuse him and
Lady Clonbrony's being a stranger, and from Ireland, makes the thing
worse.' From Ireland!—that was the unkindest cut of all but there was
no remedy.
    In vain poor Lady Clonbrony followed the dowager about the rooms, to
correct this mistake, and to represent, in justice to Mr. Soho, though
he had used her so ill, that he knew she was an Englishwoman, The
dowager was deaf, and no whisper could reach her ear. And when Lady
Clonbrony was obliged to bawl an explanation in her car, the dowager
only repeated—
    'In justice to Mr. Soho!—No, no; he has not done you justice, my dear
Lady Clonbrony! and I'll expose him to everybody. Englishwoman—no, no,
no!—Soho could not take you for an Englishwoman!'
    All who secretly envied or ridiculed Lady Clonbrony enjoyed this scene.
The Alhambra hangings, which had been, In one short hour before, the
admiration of the world, were now regarded by every eye with contempt,
as CAST hangings, and every tongue was busy declaiming against Mr. Soho;
everybody declared that, from the first, the want of proportion had
'struck them, but that they would not mention it till others found it
out.'
    People usually revenge themselves for having admired too much, by
afterwards despising and depreciating without mercy—in all great
assemblies the perception of ridicule is quickly caught, and quickly
too revealed. Lady Clonbrony, even in her own house, on her gala
night, became an object of ridicule—decently masked, indeed, under the
appearance of condolence with her ladyship, and of indignation against
'that abominable Mr. Soho!'
    Lady Langdale, who was now, for reasons of her own, upon her good
behaviour, did penance, as she said, for her former imprudence, by
abstaining even from whispered sarcasms. She looked on with penitential
gravity, said nothing herself, and endeavoured to keep Mrs. Dareville in
order; but that was no easy task. Mrs. Dareville had no daughters,
had nothing to gain from the acquaintance of my Lady Clonbrony; and,
conscious that her ladyship would bear a vast deal from her presence,
rather than forego the honour of her sanction, Mrs. Dareville, without
any motives of interest, or good-nature of